“Then she can bring me a message.”
They hurried as carefully as they could along the muddy path and soon found where it met the road between the two houses.
Sister Anne rushed back to the nuns’ preceptory.
Thomas hesitated outside the brothers’ house, inexplicably reluctant to return to his small cell.
Looking up, he noted that the moon was waning. From someone he had heard the story of a pagan goddess and her moons. If he recalled the tale correctly, a waning crescent meant a time of reversal when one might also make amends for malice done.
He shivered. This was a pagan tale, he reminded himself, but he could not help wondering if something was about to happen to reverse the darkness of the evil residing here and bring justice.
As he walked through the door of the commandery, deeply repentant for giving so much credence to pagan beliefs, he failed to notice that someone was watching him from the shadows of the chapel.
Chapter Twenty-eight
In the early morning hours, just after she had privately observed the early Office, Eleanor stood as close to the edge of the window as she dared and peeked outside.
The sun was struggling to rise, tinting the sky red at the edge of the earth and painting clouds in bruised purple while everything to the west remained dark blue. The prioress was uncertain whether this was God’s way of relaying hope or His warning that it would be a day filled with grief.
Janeta had not yet arrived, nor had Sister Anne returned from prayer. Her sub-infirmarian would be horrified that Eleanor was risking exposure. But this enforced seclusion was becoming increasingly arduous. This was their fourth day here, and there was so little time left to accomplish anything on behalf of the dying woman Eleanor continued to believe was innocent.
Gazing down into the courtyard, she saw little activity. A nun, assumed to be the cellarer, was talking to a merchant who was gesturing with enthusiasm toward his covered cart. Eleanor smiled at the nun’s lack of fervor over the man’s attempt to get the highest price for his offerings. A good cellarer would counter with the reminder that less coin in exchange for God’s blessing was of greater value to the soul. In the end, the two would come to a fair and very worldly price.
The shadows were quickly retreating and surrendering all but the deeper corners of the courtyard to God’s light.
From outside her range of vision, the steward appeared. He must have come early to discuss the day’s priorities with Prioress Emelyne, Eleanor thought. He was now walking purposefully toward the gate, and she wished she could see his face. Although he was reputed to be a cheerful and dutiful man, he had not worked long under the direction of this new prioress. Change meant the rebuilding of trust for them both, and, once again, Eleanor was grateful she had had Prior Andrew for many years to assist her.
Father Pasche, walking beside Prioress Emelyne, now came into view. Just below the window, they stopped, and he bent to speak more privately with the new prioress. His back was to Eleanor, but, in the glow of the brighter morning, she could see Emelyne’s face. Was it the stiff breeze or had he said something to bring such high color to her cheeks?
The prioress glanced up, and Eleanor jumped back. Had she been swift enough to avoid being seen?
There was a knock at the door, and Eleanor rushed back to bed, settling herself under the warm blanket before giving permission to enter.
Sister Anne walked in and firmly closed the door. “At last we are able to talk. I have much to tell you,” she said.
***
Eleanor sat on the side of the bed. “Who killed Brother Martin and why?”
“Brother Thomas does not know. He thinks that if Sister Amicia is innocent, the one who killed Mistress Hursel must have killed the lay brother as well. If she is not, there are two killers, yet that does not seem reasonable.” Anne shook her head in frustration. “He doubts it was Prioress Emelyne since the blow to the youth’s head took some strength, as did the stabbing of the butcher’s widow. Brother Damian is possible but seemed deeply grieved over the boy’s death. That leaves Father Pasche, and, as I mentioned, he behaved most oddly in his hesitancy to administer a priest’s basic duty to the hovering soul.”
“I wonder if corpses do bleed when murderers touch them.”
Anne thought for a moment. “I have known bodies to burst open if left unburied too long, and many do believe that corpses will bleed when their killer dares to touch them. Yet I have never had occasion to witness such a thing. Perhaps it matters only that many believe the tale to be true.”
“I usually look for the simplest answer. Since Sister Amicia is dying and far too frail to have stabbed the victim, my confidence grows that she is innocent. Why she chose not to defend herself is another question and, I fear, has muddied the primary issue of guilt. For that reason, I set her refusal to claim innocence aside for the moment.”
“The ring was hers.”
“How and when it was lost near the bench remain questions, but the location neither proves nor disproves her guilt.”
“So the murderer of one is most likely the killer of the other?”
“Yes, and the manner in which Brother Thomas and I have been deterred from speaking together leads me to conclude that the perpetrator is someone within this compound of commandery and preceptory.” She fell silent for a moment. “Although some might say an angry villager could have slipped in and murdered the woman, I doubt it. The time between the arrival of the victim and the discovery of her death is too short. The possibility of being seen approaching the priory and going into the garth is too great….”
“Sister Richolda thought the same.”
Eleanor smiled. “I am delighted to have that wise woman’s concurrence.”
“Brother Thomas hoped you would know far better than he who is the likely killer.”
“I would not dismiss Brother Damian because he wept over the body of the young man. Killing someone who is loved in a moment of rage is no reason not to weep over the body when Satan has released his hold on the killer.”
“And Father Pasche’s reaction when he saw the body?”
“That perplexes me. I lack enough detail, and I fear we have missed something crucial. Why, for example, is everyone complicit in allowing the former prioress to take the guilt of this crime upon herself? Might the killer be someone we haven’t considered? The steward, for instance? Was he here? Or…”
Someone knocked loudly on the door.
Eleanor leapt into bed. “That is not Janeta,” she whispered to Anne before calling permission to enter.
Prioress Emelyne strode into the room like a storm-driven thundercloud. Her eyes were narrowed in fury.
Trailing behind was a ghostly pale Janeta.
“How dare you!” The Hospitaller prioress gripped her hands as if fearing what they might do in her rage.
Raising an eyebrow, Eleanor said nothing, her demeanor cold as ice.
“What plots are you hatching behind my back? I have done nothing to deserve this. Did I not offer you adequate hospitality when you were injured? Have I not sent Janeta to assist you? Did I…?”
Eleanor raised a hand. “If you will explain how I have offended you, we might be able to discuss this matter without undue recriminations.”
“You are spying on us! Why?”
“And what has led you to make this accusation?”
Sister Anne poured a mazer of wine and offered it to Emelyne.
The woman glared at the cup.
Eleanor wondered if the heat of the woman’s gaze might boil the proffered wine.
But with a surprising shift to composure, Emelyne accepted the extended refreshment. “Your monk and this nun met in secret last night near the fishponds.” She flipped her hand in the sub-infirmarian’s direction. “Either you are spying on us or your two religious are breaking their vows of chastity.�
� Her voice retained a sharp edge.
Sister Anne spun around and walked back to the ewer, covering her mouth with her hand. To anyone who did not know her, the gesture might have suggested guilt. To those who did, it would be clear she was struggling not to laugh.
Eleanor tilted her head and widened her eyes with an expression of mild surprise. “Most certainly I can assure you that Brother Thomas and Sister Anne were not engaged in lustful acts. In fact, we were discussing their meeting before you arrived.”
“Then why were they sneaking around at night, under the trees, and near the fishponds?”
With a great sigh, Eleanor bowed her head. “Although you have generously sent Janeta to assist my sub-infirmarian with my care, and Brother Damian was sufficiently worried about Brother Thomas’ safety to assign a man to accompany him at all times, there are occasions when I deem it advisable for my two monastics to speak together, although preferably in my presence.”
Emelyne’s forbidding scowl wavered ever so slightly.
Eleanor smiled gently at the self-effacing maid. “Of course, I am deeply appreciative of the attendants you have assigned to us.” She bent her head with evident embarrassment. “Yet I have the right to keep some matters of health a private issue between those who treat and myself. Now it seems I must reveal this to defend us from unjust accusations.” She glanced up at Emelyne with a look that could be interpreted as either mild anger or surprise at the need to explain herself.
Emelyne stepped back and opened her mouth to speak.
Eleanor waved her hand to dismiss the attempt. “I have some concerns that ought not, for purposes of modesty, be discussed in the presence of Father Pasche or Brother Martin. Although I have heard the sad news of the young lay brother’s death, and shall pray for his soul, I believe that Father Pasche’s ears would blush to hear of my womanly concerns.”
The prioress’ expression hardened. “Yet Brother Thomas may speak of such things without question?”
“Indeed, he can! At our priory, we send Brother Thomas into the village with medicines to treat those unable to come to our hospital. When he does this, he must sometimes help women who suffer from spreading sores in the womb or the painful teats of nursing mothers. Never once has he touched them or broken his vows in any way. The villagers call him saintly. Sister Anne and I have learned to rely on his advice.”
Now standing away from the view of Prioress Emelyne and Janeta, Sister Anne watched her own prioress with increasing amazement.
“Thus he has some expertise in medical matters, unlike Father Pasche.” Emelyne bent her head, speaking softly as if alone.
Eleanor did not respond.
The prioress abruptly looked up. “Yet why at night and at the fishponds?”
“Where else could they meet privately without Father Pasche joining them?” Eleanor shrugged. “Brother Thomas saw Sister Richolda delivering medicines to the commandery and begged her to tell Sister Anne to meet him after the mid-afternoon prayer at that place. There they might discuss the health issue to which I have just alluded. An acceptable request, wouldn’t you say? And your infirmarian owns no fault in relaying the message…” Eleanor gave Emelyne a significant glance. “…unless she was ordered to disobey my reasonable desire for communication between two religious under my authority.”
“She was not.” But Emelyne’s color had risen once more.
“As for the hour, it was not yet dark, although Sister Anne has confessed to me that their consultation lasted longer than either had expected. All this has been confessed to me. Both Brother Thomas and she have begged my forgiveness, which I have granted. The meeting may have been ill-advised, Prioress, but I know my monastics well. I am confident that their transgression was carelessness, committed out of desire to achieve a higher purpose of charity, not sin.”
Knowing she dare not criticize the Prioress of Tyndal for her decision on her own two monastics, Emelyne said nothing but her eyes glowed again with fury.
“I hope you and I can come to a compromise in this matter so there will no longer be the chance for misunderstanding.” Eleanor gestured to her nun to refill the woman’s mazer.
Eleanor had noted that Janeta remained behind Prioress Emelyne without speaking the entire time, but now the maid gave off a foul stink. Even her robe was splotched with her nervous sweat.
Emelyne did not reply until she had drunk some of the wine. Now appearing calmer, she said, “I have no wish to quarrel with you.”
“I propose that Sister Anne and Brother Thomas meet as needed without hindrance. Now that the soul of Brother Martin lies with God, I ask that your brother not assign another attendant to Brother Thomas on those occasions when my two monastics wish to speak about matters of no concern to the men of the commandery.”
Emelyne’s forehead creased with displeasure.
“Instead, I beg you to send only Janeta with Sister Anne so there will be proper attendance when she speaks with my monk.”
The sub-infirmarian’s mouth briefly opened and instantly shut.
Janeta’s head snapped up. She did not attempt to hide her surprise.
Emelyne slowly smiled, this time with apparent relief. “I grant your plea, Prioress Eleanor. Your suggestion is a wise one.” She looked behind her at the maid, then back at her guest. “And you may call on her to do so, no matter what time of the day or night.”
“I am most grateful,” Eleanor said, beaming in return. “There will not be any further meetings at dusk, however. Sister Anne and I have agreed that it was imprudent to do so last night.”
“We are in amicable agreement,” Emelyne said, and, after a brief exchange of meaningless pleasantries, left the chamber. At her command, Janeta followed.
***
Anne rushed over to Eleanor and sat on the bed so they could whisper.
“I managed all that without lying too much,” the prioress said. “The closest I came was the suggestion about my health problem, but solving this murder would give me much relief.” Eleanor pressed a hand to her breast. “I wasn’t sure I could succeed with the trick.”
Anne laughed softly. “Well, we did agree that meeting by the willow tree near the swollen fishponds at dusk was dangerous and ought not to be repeated.”
“Most certainly ill-advised!”
“Had God given you a man’s shape, you would have made a fine counselor to the king! Never have I heard tales of anyone, past or present, who could obfuscate meaning as skillfully as you did this day!”
“Yet to further hide our purpose, I was forced to agree that Janeta might remain an observer.” Eleanor fell silent as if she had heard a sound outside.
Anne listened, but then shook her head and bent closer.
“How well do you know French?” Eleanor asked.
“I learned enough, before I took vows, in our former apothecary shop to communicate with those merchants who came from there.”
“Brother Thomas knows the language well. When you need to speak of secret things in the presence of our faithful maid, do your best with French and let us pray that Janeta is totally ignorant of the tongue.”
“As I am ignorant of Latin,” Anne said with a hint of sadness.
Eleanor squeezed her friend’s hand. “We shall take our chances,” she said, “but for the first time, I feel hopeful.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Sister Anne took her time walking the path to the commandery. The sun warmed the earth, and the air was filled with a fertile scent that promised new life. Her spirits rose. It was the first time, since the death of the abbots, that she had not been burdened with melancholy. Had she been a child, or even a young woman, she might have allowed herself to skip, but Janeta was with her.
I must maintain my dignity, she said to herself with amusement, and refused to hold back a sigh of contentment.
But then she turned and realized
that Janeta was walking very slowly some distance behind as if she did not want to arrive at their destination.
The sub-infirmarian waited for her and, once again, noted how downcast the maid looked. Of course, the woman most certainly had cause. Her mistress was condemned as a murderer. Prioress Emelyne had presumably chosen her to spy on them because Janeta was the most vulnerable in the community. Being neither lay sister nor otherwise securely bound to the priory like the steward was, she had no assured place here. She might not have wanted to report to her prioress on all we said or did, but she had little choice in obeying and must feel very much alone. How lonely she must be, Anne decided, for the maid seemed to have no friend at all in the priory.
Yet there was no reason to believe Prioress Emelyne would not take her in as a lay sister or even a secular servant after her mistress died. The Hospitallers were known for their charity to the poor, and Janeta did qualify as that.
In the distance, a bird sang. It would soon be time for nesting and eggs. With the dark chill of winter, many men and women would have found warmth in each other’s arms, and the sight of rounded bellies would become more common in a little while as well.
After darkness, light shines, Sister Anne thought, and death precedes eternal life. The seasons might teach God’s lessons well, but she was now beginning to worry if her stock of medicines at Tyndal Priory was ready for the needs of birthing mothers. Sister Oliva was a treasure of competence, but Anne longed to be home.
Janeta was now standing quietly next to the nun.
“You all must grieve over the death of Brother Martin,” Sister Anne said.
Janeta turned her eyes to the ground.
“Did you know him?”
“Everyone did,” the maid replied.
“Did he have a special responsibility in the commandery? I know nothing of the practices of this Order in England, and there are so few men in residence here. I assume each bore a greater burden of duties as a result.”
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